Ebony Doll
by Millia
Summary: Crossroads of Twilight from Tuon’s POV. What exactly made her come with Mat? And why is she always smiling that smile?
1. Chapter 1

**Ebony Doll**  
by **Millia**

**Summary**: _Crossroads of Twilight_ from Tuon's POV. What exactly made her come with Mat? And why is she always smiling that smile?

**Disclaimer**: Everything belongs to the large, ingenious head of Robert Jordan, and I am only a poor student passing the time I should be studying by writing this.

* * *

She had looked at every wall of the small wagon countless times; every lamp, bed, book, table, cup, piece of dust. Every overly decorated piece of furniture. She had even counted the planks of wood. 

She was angry. And she was not accustomed to being ignored. The heir to the Seanchan empire had been rolled into a tapestry, thrown across a saddle, tossed into a tiny wagon, had her fingernails cut off, and thrust into an overly-large sack that some might think passed for a dress. She could feel her fingers, which felt awfully light, tapping the binding of the book sitting open on her lap. She had to work every second at keeping her composure about her, and continually dismiss thoughts of throwing open the door and marching up to someone and finishing the fight she had started nights ago—only with a slightly different ending; someone who, she was sure, had been avoiding her since he stuck her in here.

She frowned at the book in her lap, having read the past sentence at least twelve times without seeing anything. Her thoughts kept drifting, from her last time in Seanchan to her arrival at Ebou Dar to the night fleeing it.

She looked up and caught Selucia's eyes, and was comforted by the small smile offered. She was relieved that Selucia had come, as well; she would have felt lost otherwise. Selucia didn't quite look the same with the scarf wrapped around her head; she had been indignant when she was told to shave her head, and Tuon had had to placate her.

Setalle Anan was busy sewing, sitting on the small bed to the other side of Tuon. She had introduced herself to them, wearing a small smile and telling them that she was there to "guard" them. Her presence had also been a relief, providing conversation just when Tuon was about to give in to the temptation to throttle someone. Tuon often found herself wondering at Setalle's composure and bearing; she claimed to be a simple innkeeper, though she did admit she was not from Ebou Dar. She also apparently knew Mat Cauthon when he stayed at her inn before moving into the palace, although she didn't say any more about it or him. Tuon knew, though, that Setalle had had some part in helping Mat and the others leave Ebou Dar, though she had no idea how or why. It was also apparent that she was fond of Mat.

Currently, Tuon was unable to concentrate because her anger was finally getting the better of her, due to a certain story Setalle had told her. She had been beside herself with fury when she heard, but it had simmered into something worse, something seething and building up as each day passed. He completely avoided her, but he spread tales that she was a servant who was being punished for stealing? While it might have seemed a reasonable tale, she couldn't believe that he had absolutely no imagination to come up with something else. Furthermore, apparently he and Egeanin were lovers fleeing her husband. That didn't even merit a comment.

Frustratingly enough, she found that in the silence her thoughts continually turned to Mat Cauthon. She still did not know what to make of him, and the omens. It was the omens that brought her here, she told herself continually. He had to know something, too; after all, he was never planning to bring her along until he learned she was the Daughter of the Nine Moons. She could still remember the shock on his face. It had meant something to him, and from the dread that followed—which she somewhat resented—it meant nothing pleasant.  
And he had claimed her as his wife . . . he obviously had no idea what Seanchan custom entailed. And he knew nothing about her own fortune she had heard, or the omens he carried. She wondered what he knew, what he had heard, and resolved to get to the bottom of it. That is, if he ever came by.

She heard voices outside, followed by footsteps up to the door of the miniscule wagon. Without even bothering to knock, the man she had just been thinking about walked in, as if summoned by her thoughts.

* * *

**Originally posted**: April 10, 2004 


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**: Once again, I own nothing. Sadly enough, not even the plot. Only Tuon's train of thought. All the dialogue is taken directly from Crossroads of Twilight, Chapter 3: Fan of Colors.

  
  
He looked different, thanks mostly to his clothes. He worn plain brown wool, and a brown cap tugged low over his eyes; it was easy enough to see he was trying not to attract attention by fading out of most people's notice. He looked around the wagon briefly before turning his eyes to her, but she didn't give him a chance to talk; she had been waiting long enough.   
  
"Setalle has been keeping me informed," she said before he had even closed the door. "She's told me the story you have put about concerning me, Toy."   
  
Quickly she reached behind her for a cup just as he stated, "My name is Mat," as if she were a fool.   
  
But like he had proved the night he kidnapped her, this Mat Cauthon had very quick reflexes, dropping to the ground before the cup could reach him. Despite everything, she was still surprised; she knew she had fast hands, and not many could dodge them when she was angry.   
  
And Tuon was angry now; she would very much have liked for it to hit him. "I am a _servant_, Toy? A _thieving_ servant?" As she stood and grabbed the chamber pot, some small voice in the back of her head pointed out that she was throwing a tantrum like a petulant child. She told it to shut up. "A _faithless_ servant?"   
  
Tuon could see that Selucia was enjoying herself, but she was practical as well, having put up with many of Tuon's rages. "We will need that," she said, and reached up to take the chamber pot before squatting at next to her.   
  
"We have plenty of these," Setalle said-the Light bless her.   
  
Mat shot her a surprised look, and it amused Tuon to know that he was baffled over Setalle's lack of... guarding.   
  
"Do you need help in there?" one of the soldiers from outside called.   
  
"We have everything in hand," Setalle serenely replied. "Go on about your work. Don't dawdle."   
  
Tuon studied the cup and couldn't help it when she felt a small smile appearing, wondering if he would be quick enough to dodge this one. She always enjoyed seeing what others were made of. "I will not be known as a servant, Toy," she repeated more softly. She hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt, because most of her anger had left her suddenly. Besides, she had a sinking feeling that Mat would not really care what others referred to her as.   
  
"My name is Mat, not... that other thing." So he had already stated. He was now cautiously standing up, and Tuon suddenly remembered that he was injured. _Good_, she thought, and hated that another part of her was worried she had injured him further. To cover this, as though he could tell, she raised the cup in her hands threateningly. He didn't appear to notice it.   
  
"I could hardly tell the showfolk I'd kidnapped the Daughter of the Nine Moons."   
  
"The High Lady Tuon, peasant! She is under the veil!" Selucia was always a stickler for ceremony, but this was hardly the place, and Mat simply looked confused.   
  
"It is of no import, Selucia. He is ignorant, yet. We must educate him. But you will change this story, Toy. I will not be a servant."   
  
"It's too late to change anything," he replied, keeping his eye on the cup-a wise move, as Tuon realized that he had directly refused her. She could feel the glowing spark of her anger resurfacing, and she gladly fueled it as he continued.   
  
"Nobody's asking you to _be_ a servant."   
  
Tuon resisted the urge to roll her eyes; did he think her a fool? And did he really think that he or anyone else could make her be one?   
  
"I couldn't leave you behind to raise an alarm. I know Mistress Anan has explained it to you. I know she's already told you this, but I promise no one's going to hurt you. We're not after ransom, just getting away with our heads still attached. As soon as I can figure out how to send you home safe and sound, I will. I promise. I'll make you as comfortable as I can until then. You'll just have to put up with the other."   
  
Her anger grew, especially with his offhand treatment of her, like... like a package! Who was he to send her "home safe and sound," like an inept child? Was he really planning to get rid of her as soon as possible? After all, she remembered, he hadn't been planning to kidnap her in the first place. Well, as long as the omens held, she had no intention of leaving.   
  
"It seems I will see what your promises are worth, Toy." For some reason, she was sure that he would keep any promise he made.   
  
Selucia, outraged that Tuon was letting him speak to her thus, hissed; Tuon hushed her with a sharp gesture to keep silent, and Selucia had enough grace to blush.   
  
She saw Mat looking at her hand curiously, but instead he said, "Answer me a question, Tuon."   
  
It wasn't even a request, but a _command_. And he had actually _addressed_ her by name? He was either a fool or he simply didn't care. Despite her wish for it to be the former, that annoying voice made her quite aware that it wasn't.   
  
She thought she heard Setalle mutter something, but Mat showed no reaction if she did. Selucia, remembering her last reprimand, simply clenched her jaw. For her part, Tuon simply glared, nursing her anger.   
  
"How old are you?"   
  
_That_ was his question? Tuon suddenly realized he really did think her a child. Furious, she drew herself to her full height-_not very tall, is it?_ that annoying voice was still there-and glared at him. "My fourteenth true-name day will come in five months." She cursed her inability to keep her voice as cool as she would wish. She thought she saw hope flicker in his eyes briefly as she said this, and she almost trembled with rage as she realized what he was thinking. "No; you keep your birth names here, don't you. That will be my twentieth naming day. Are you satisfied, Toy? Did you fear you had stolen a... child?" She hadn't meant to say that, because she didn't want to hear the answer.   
  
But he simply waved his hands in front of himself, looking worried and trying to ward off her anger. "I just wanted to know, that's all. I was curious, making conversation. I'm only a little older myself."   
  
She looked at him, not really believing. But again, her anger had spent itself, and she tossed the cup down and sat once again on the stool, arranging her skirts and trying to compose herself. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and noticed something missing.   
  
"Where is your ring?" she demanded.   
  
He thumbed his finger, as if just now realizing it wasn't there. "I don't wear it all the time." She realized that it would be out of place with his plain clothing.   
  
But he had been wearing it the day he met her; Tuon remembered it well-the fox and the nine moons. She had had to repress a shiver when she first lay eyes on it-and him. What else could it be but an omen? She only hoped, for the hundredth time since trapped in this wagon, that she hadn't been wrong. There were too many consequences if she were.   
  
Refocusing on him, she saw that he was leaning against the cabinet lazily, as if it never occurred to him to show respect. He was grinning too, as if he found something amusing.   
  
Something suddenly came to her, and she let out a long breath. She asked in the Old Tongue, "Do you remember Hawkwing's Face, Toy?"   
  
Setalle Anan blinked, surprised; she probably understood nothing. Selucia, after staring at her for a second, turned her frown to Mat, waiting for his response. Tuon simply watched him, not really knowing why she had asked, or even if he had understood.   
  
His smile seemed to freeze, and for barely a second he seemed to be somewhere else, still looking at her but not really seeing.   
  
Then just as suddenly he was drawing a deep breath and saying quickly, "Of course I don't! Light, Hawkwing died a thousand years ago! What kind of question is that?"   
  
She slowly opened her mouth, but found that she had nothing to say. So he did understand. This Mat Cauthon became more and more confusing every second. She wondered what he was really doing in Ebou Day; surely he hadn't come there to be a queen's pet?   
  
"A foolish one, Toy," she replied finally, just to say something. "I can't say why it popped into my head."   
  
He seemed to relax at that, before saying, "My name is Mat. Mat Cauthon."   
  
She was getting a childish delight out of ignoring this repetition of his, and spoke over him, having fully recovered her poise; she wanted to annoy him some more.   
  
"I cannot say what I will do after returning to Ebou Dar, Toy. I have not decided. I may have you made _da'covale_. You are not pretty enough for a cupbearer, but it might please me to have you for one." It would be interesting, to be able to boss him around; that would most likely infuriate him, too. "Still, you have represented certain promises to me, so it pleases me now to promise, as well. So long as you keep your promises, I will neither escape nor betray you in any way, nor will I cause dissension among your followers. I believe that covers everything necessary."   
  
She ignored the startled expressions of the other women and watched Mat, waiting to see what he would do.   
  
He looked at her as if she were insane, and made a noise of disbelief. She had to remind herself that these people really had no honor, and would not believe the word of a prisoner. He most likely thought she would escape the first chance possible-which she would, she conceded, if she had not promised. Or if she had not seen the omens.   
  
"Well, that does all right for you, but what about Selucia?"   
  
"Selucia follows my wishes, Toy." She was impatient, knowing he was only trying to stall for time.   
  
He spat on his hand and held it out.   
  
"Your customs are ... earthy," Tuon said, mimicking him and shaking his hand; it was callused and gripped hers firmly to seal the agreement. _Agreement_. Suddenly what had been pestering her ever since she first saw it had to be voiced. "'Thus is our treaty written; thus is agreement made.' What does that writing on your spear mean, Toy?" It seemed important that she know now.   
  
But Mat didn't appear to have heard it. The moment his hands touched hers, his eyes had once again gone blank for barely the span of a heartbeat.   
  
Someone knocked on the door, and he spun, pulling knives out of his sleeves. She would have been amused at his startled action but for the fact that he really seemed worried.   
  
"Stay behind me."   
  
_Another order._   
  
It was Thom Merilin, one of Mat's... followers? She wasn't quite sure the relationship between the two; both seemed to respect the other, but Merilin, for all his age, obeyed every order Mat gave him. It was another thing about him to be figured out.   
  
"I trust I'm not interrupting anything?"   
  
Tuon watched Mat slip his knives up his sleeves, and she suddenly wondered if she had underestimated him from the start. How many knives did he have?   
  
"What did you find out, Thom?"   
  
The old man limped into the wagon and pushed back his hood, wet with rain. "The streets are full of rumors about her, but nothing about her disappearing," he indicated Tuon. "I bought drinks for a few Seanchan officers, and they seem to believe she's snug in the Tarasin Palace or off on an inspection trip. I didn't sense any dissembling, Mat. They didn't know."   
  
Of course not, the old fool. Well, Merilin wasn't a fool; she knew that much. She settled on speaking to Mat, then.   
  
"Did you expect public announcements, Toy? As it is, Suroth may be considering taking her own life for the shame." Which wouldn't bother her in the least; she had never liked the woman. Even if this had been a mistake, at least one small good thing would come of it. "Do you expect her to spread such an ill omen for the Return about for everyone to see on top of that?"   
  
Mat ignored her, looking preoccupied-it annoyed her how he seemed to be quite good at ignoring her-but Merilin eyed her with interest; but whether over her words or what she could not say.   
  
"There's more, Mat," he continued, turning to him. "Tylin's dead. They're keeping it quiet for fear of disturbances, but one of the Palace Guards, a young lieutenant who couldn't hold his brandy, told me they're planning her funeral feast and Beslan's coronation for the same day."   
  
Tuon blinked. She was surprised that this upset her, although she hardly knew the woman. Did her death have anything to do with Tuon's sudden disappearance? Or perhaps the disappearance of the queen's toy?   
  
"How?" Mat demanded. Suddenly, Tuon wasn't so upset that Tylin was dead. Was he upset at all? she wondered.   
  
She could see Merilin hesitating about whether or not to tell. "She was found in her bedchamber the morning after we left, Mat, still bound hand and foot. Her head.... Her head had been torn off."   
  
Suddenly, Mat sat on the floor, or rather collapsed, directly in front of Tuon. Setalle felt his cheek with a worried expression on her face, like a mother worried about a child's fever. Tuon briefly wondered what Tylin's death meant to this woman, who was not an Ebou Dari but had lived there. It was a fleeting thought, and she refocused her attention on Mat and Merilin as they continued.   
  
"The Windfinders?" Mat said.   
  
"According to what that lieutenant said, the Seanchan have settled on Aes Sedai for the blame. Because Tylin had sworn the Seanchan oaths. That's what they'll announce at her funeral feast."   
  
"Tylin dies the same night the Windfinders escape, and the Seanchan believe Aes Sedai killed her?" Mat said, incredulous. "That doesn't make sense, Thom."   
  
"It could be political, in part, but i think that's what they really believe, Mat. That lieutenant said they're sure the Windfinders were running too hard to stop or go out of their way, and the quickest path out of the palace from the _damane_ kennels goes nowhere near Tylin's apartments."   
  
Mat simply grunted. His shoulders were hunched, and Tuon wondered if he was thinking about Tylin much. _Of course he is, fool; didn't he just hear she was dead?_   
  
She gestured with her hand to Selucia, who obediently dictated, "The _marath'damane_ had reason to murder Tylin. They must fear her example for others. What reason had the _damane_ you speak of? None. The hand of justice requires motive and proof, even for _damane_ and _da'covale_."   
  
Everyone was looking at her, except for Mat, who looked over his shoulder at Tuon. She remembered him curiously looking at her hand gesturing before.   
  
She carefully schooled her features and, making sure her voice was even, said, "Did you care for Tylin so deeply?"   
  
"Yes. No. Burn me, I _liked_ her!" He turned away from her and brushed his hand through his hair, knocking off the cap as he did so.   
  
She didn't know if she liked his answer, or his turning away from her. If he didn't love her, then why...   
  
_Why a lot of things_, she thought, bemused.   
  
Mat continued, more to himself that anyone else, "And I left her tied up and gagged, so she couldn't even call for help, easy prey for the _gholam_. It was looking for me. Don't shake your head. Thom. You know it as well as I do." He sounded tired, and frustrated, and something else.   
  
"What is a ... _gholam_?" she asked, and looking at the other two women she knew she wasn't the only one who had never heard of this.   
  
"Shadowspawn, my Lady," Merilin answered, frowning; he looked worried, and she thought that he was even frightened of this... _gholam_. "It looks like a man, but it can slip through a mousehole, or under a door, and it's strong enough to..." he trailed off. "Well, enough of that. Mat, she could have had a hundred guards around her, and it wouldn't have stopped that thing."   
  
So the "something else" was guilt. He was guilty over Tylin's death, and Tuon hoped it was only guilt.   
  
But this _gholam_; surely it was impossible, but she did not think either one of them would feel the need to invent something like this.   
  
"A _gholam_," she murmurred. She rapped Mat's head sharply with her knuckles, tired already of his brooding. He turned to look at her as if he didn't quite believe she had just done that, clasping his head with his hand. "I'm very happy that you show loyalty to Tylin, Toy," she lied, "but I won't have superstition in you. I will not have it. It does Tylin no honor." He looked increasingly incredulous with every word.   
  
Another fist hammered on the door. Tuon found it only slightly amusing that after days of nothing, suddenly her little wagon could hardly fit anyone else.   
  
It was a man, wearing an ordinary brown cloak and clothes, but he looked dangerous. He focused on Mat, but not before staring at Selucia's... assets for longer than necessary.   
  
"Joline wants you, Cauthon," he said.   
  
Joline? The name sounded familiar, but she didn't like the fact that Mat was being ordered away from her before she was finished with him. She still had several more questions.   
  
"Who is Joline?" Tuon demanded. They simply ignored her.   
  
"Tell Joline I'll see her once we're on the road, Blaeric."   
  
"She wants you now, Cauthon."   
  
Mat seemed to give in, too tired to argue with Blaeric, and stood up with a sigh.   
  
"Who is Joline, Toy?" She didn't mean it to come out that way, but she couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. _Or the jealousy, rather. Shut up._   
  
"A bloody Aes Sedai," Mat grumbled, not even looking at her.   
  
Tuon, despite everything, felt her mouth drop open in shock. And then Mat and the other two men were out of the wagon, in the rain, and she was once again in her tiny wagon with only Setalle and Selucia.   
  
  
  
Originally posted: April 10, 2004   
  
**A/N**: Ah, well, hello. I'm glad you've read thus far. I think I shall state a few things:   
  
**1)** This is my first fanfiction. I never intended to write one, but I've found Tuon increasingly admirable as I've reread the last two books, and thus I wanted to give my small insight into who I think she is.   
  
**2)** I guess I should state the obvious in that I took a few liberties with interpretations, such as Tuon's question "Do you remember Hawkwing's face, Toy?" Nothing in the text really leads me to assume she asked the question in the Old Tongue, but it just occurred to me once, I wonder what it'd mean if she did? And so I wrote it that way-because it'd be really interesting if she did ask in the Old Tongue.   
  
**3)** I'm sure a lot of people will disagree with certain things that she thinks, or what kind of a person I'm representing her as. But as her character is somewhat limited so far and with limited appearances-only one POV of hers-I largely based my interpretation on Mat's views and her dialogue. I hope it's not incredibly off the wall.   
  
That's about it. I have no idea when I'll update again. Reviews are appreciated. 


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER**: Everything belongs to Robert Jordan.  
  
Tuon grimaced yet again as she ran a hand through her hair; she was still unaccustomed to the slight stubble that covered her scalp. It was quiet, and at the moment she didn't want it to be quiet; she didn't want to think.   
  
All attempted conversation with Tuon had died out hours ago. She had been thinking about her situation over and over again, until everything seemed numb and distant. She had weighed all the possibilities that she could think of -- what if she had misread this Mat Cauthon? What if she should have stayed in Ebou Dar, or even in Seanchan? Were the Deathwatch Guards already looking for her? Well, she knew the answer to the last one; she was even more of a fool if she believed that she wouldn't be found. Bored, she began to pluck at her dress, brow creased, as she contemplated where she was.   
  
Selucia watched her fidget for a while before turning to Setalle. "Isn't there anything we could have? Such as another book or a maybe game?"   
  
Tuon looked up quickly in time to see Setalle pause in her stitching and think, frowning and tapping her chin absentmindedly. Tuon almost screamed in frustration; she was normally incredibly patient -- you couldn't tame _damane_ without being it -- but this confinement was driving her crazy. Their last -- and _only_ -- visitors had already been two days ago.   
  
_I hate this stupid wagon! I'm such a Light-cursed fool for even being here!_   
  
She knew she wasn't, though; despite everything, despite all her thoughts to the contrary, being here still felt _right_. She was frustrated that she had no idea why, however.   
  
"I'm sure I can get a stones board, perhaps," Setalle said. "Excuse me." She placed her work on the bed and calmly stood up, rearranging her skirts like a queen, and walked outside. Tuon studied her intently, liking her more each moment. She didn't seem to be like the rest of the people here, with their muddled traditions and classes and ridiculously fast ways of talking. Tuon probably would have gone crazy long before had it not been for her.   
  
For the first time, Tuon was alone with Selucia. She turned to face her, feeling Selucia's intent gaze on the back of her head.   
  
"Yes?" she asked, pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.   
  
"I was just wondering," Selucia said slowly, "about..."   
  
Tuon raised her eyebrows, waiting for her to continue. Despite her license to speak freely in private, which she often took advantage of, Selucia seemed hesitant to say what was on her mind.   
  
"The... promise... you made to Tylin's toy..."   
  
"What about it?" she asked primly.   
  
There was another pause.   
  
"Why did you do it?"   
  
Tuon frowned and looked at her hands in her lap. She resumed plucking aimlessly at the sack that she wore (_Dress? Ha!_) and hesitated before answering. "I don't... know, exactly. With him standing there, it just... sort of came out; I never intended it. Sometimes, I feel that he... oh, nevermind." It had felt as if he had drawn something out of her, especially when he was making eye contact with her -- something she was not really used to; most respectful people never raised their eyes to the Blood. She raised her own eyes once more to Selucia's blue ones. "And I think I can trust his word," she said, smiling slightly, "though I don't think he quite realizes what he promised."   
  
Selucia, though she probably still didn't understand, returned her smile. "I'll be here."   
  
"I know you will."   
  
Selucia hesitated again. "And you know... they will find us."   
  
"I know." There was no doubt in either of their minds that once it was realized that Tuon was missing, they would never rest until they found her.   
  
"Well... what are you going to do when they come? Surely you won't protect these people."   
  
Tuon raised an eyebrow, and Selucia flushed at her presumptuous tone. But she had a point; Tuon, honestly, had no clue what she would do when the time came.   
  
She ran a hand through her hair and laughed, suddenly. Selucia blinked at the sudden sound. "I'll never get used to this, however. I suppose it's useless to ask for a razor."   
  
The door opened, and a small boy came in, grinning toothily. He was short, and by no means cute -- his smile seemed rather insolent, too. But Tuon couldn't help the small smile she greeted with him, raising an eyebrow slightly in an inquiring way.   
  
"Mistress Anan says I can come visit with you. My name is Olver. Do you know how to play Snake and Foxes?"   
  
"Hello, Olver. It's been a very long time, but I do know how to play."   
  
At that moment, Setalle entered, smiled at Olver, and sat down. "I brought a stones board," here she indicated what she had been carrying, "but Olver was eager to meet you, so I said he could come in with his game."   
  
"Are you part of Master Luca's show?" Selucia asked Olver.   
  
"No," he replied absently, not really paying attention as he focused on setting up the game. It was rather a crude one, made out of cloth and with chipped pieces. "I work for Mat," he continued, setting up final touches. Then he began to read, "_Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to dazzle, iron to bind_." He looked up at Tuon as she sat down on the floor across from him. "Do you play this in Seanchan?"   
  
She smiled slightly, and if anyone had looked carefully for it, they would have seen a slight amount of bitterness. "I used to." She had had to stop playing games long ago, however. Her smile faded.   
  
"You can go first. I'd probably be chastised for making a guest go second."   
  
She didn't bother hiding an amused smile. _Guest?_ "Thank you." She rolled the dice and moved accordingly.   
  
Olver quickly snatched the dice once she was done, and laughed delightedly as he passed Tuon's piece.   
  
They played several games, Selucia joining for a few; Olver was obviously still determined to win without breaking any rules. Tuon stopped trying to ask him questions, as she was only getting half-hearted responses; and she was finding it hard to annoy Setalle's glances whenever she casually tried to ask about Mat and why he had been in Ebou Dar, or where Luca's show was headed. But besides hardly answering her, he spoke enough for ten children, asking questions about Seanchan and the soldiers' outfits; at first, Setalle had looked worried, but quickly relaxed when she saw that Tuon didn't mind answering his questions.   
  
She actually felt relaxed for the first time in days -- _Maybe even years_, she thought, amused despite the fact that it wasn't at all funny. Furthermore, Olver could make her laugh by commenting about her eyes and face, before turning to flatter Selucia with comments that young boys shouldn't have any idea about.   
  
But the few responses that she _had_ gotten to her questions were enough to make her mind whirl. Such as why this boy was tagging around with Mat. She could certainly see no family resemblance.   
  
Selucia seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Where are your parents?" she asked at the end of one game.   
  
Olver's hands paused for a moment, and he was silent. Then he looked at her. "They're dead," he said simply.   
  
There was a small silence.   
  
Olver seemed to feel the need to explain more. "The... Shado or whoever killed my dad. I'm from Cairhien. My mom died later. Mat found me."   
  
_The Shado?_   
  
The door opened before Tuon or Selucia could reply. An old man stuck his head in, scanning the room. He spotted Olver.   
  
"There you are! Vanin said you had disappeared, and I was sent to look for you." His body followed his head into Tuon's wagon. He appeared old, but Tuon was usually good at seeing past common misconceptions. Old he may be; but he also looked dangerous.   
  
But not at the moment, as he smiled at the women and gave them a low bow.   
  
"A pleasure to meet you, yet again, my lady," he directed this at Tuon. "I don't believe we were properly introduced the first time. My name is Noal Charin."   
  
Tuon blushed, grateful that her dark skin covered most of it. _I hope_. How could she have forgotten him? He had only picked her up like a bloody sack right when she was about to seriously injure Mat Cauthon, then held her quite easily as if she were a kitten while the latter began to shred her clothes.   
  
But she simply nodded serenely in response. "Good day, Master Charin. Olver was just playing Snakes and Foxes with us."   
  
"Well, perhaps we could come back another day?" To her fury, Noal directed this question at Setalle, who simply nodded.   
  
"Bye!" said Olver cheerfully, gathering his game and exiting with Noal. As the door closed, they heard him beg Noal to teach him how to catch fish with his bare hands like he had seen him do to earlier.   
  
Selucia laughed. "I wonder where he learned those things to say to you Tuon." She smiled slightly in response, not really concentrating on anything. It was hard not to smile around Olver.   
  
Setalle also laughed. "Yes, thanks to his many uncles. Light knows the boy needs a mother."   
  
"How do you mean?" Tuon inquired, attempting to look uninterested as she began to set up the stones board for a game with Selucia.   
  
"He picks up their worst habits," she shook her head lightly, unthreading a misplaced stitch. "Never could talk to Mat about it, though. He'd insist it were Vanin or someone else. He probably still does. I'm sure nothing changed when they moved to the Palace."   
  
Tuon frowned, then quickly hid it.   
  
"Why did Olver go to the Palace?" Selucia inquired.   
  
"Because Mat and the Redarms did."   
  
Tuon could have screamed in frustration. Despite her admiration for this woman, her answers were _far_ too vague, especially for someone who was used to getting an exact answer whenever she wanted. Had Setalle had some kind of training in this or something?   
  
Suddenly, the innkeeper laughed. "I suppose you want to know about who, exactly, kidnapped you and why. I would in your place, too. Unfortunately, I don't know why. I certainly didn't expect this to happen when he told me he was leaving."   
  
Tuon didn't even pretend to study the stones any longer. "Why did _you_ leave Ebou Dar?"   
  
Setalle seemed hesitant, and Tuon knew why.   
  
"You may speak freely. Nothing you say about the Seanchan will be considered treason now."   
  
Selucia looked startled, and Setalle again studied her with an unreadable expression.   
  
"I only left because my husband felt it was time to leave."   
  
Tuon knew that she was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth, but she did not press the matter. She simply sat quietly and waited.   
  
Abruptly, Setalle grimaced. "I suppose it would change nothing, anyway. I have aided too far already not to be in trouble if you are found." That was definitely true. "I had hidden an Aes Sedai in the basement of my inn, and needed to get her out of the city."   
  
Selucia jumped at the mention of the Aes Sedai.   
  
"Joline?" Tuon asked, remembering the name.   
  
"Yes, Joline. Ironically, I suppose, Mat had already promised to get two other Aes Sedai out of the Seanchan kennels, and he agreed to help me."   
  
"Did he... know them?" Tuon tried to keep her voice even, detached, while cursing herself for being a fool. He had lied straight to her face when she had caught him coming from the kennels! Searching for sweets for a _damane_, indeed. She bristled, but somehow managed to keep it from her expression and tone. But she couldn't help thinking that there were _three_ Aes Sedai in this very camp. Three _marath'damane_!   
  
Setalle might have heard something from her voice, though. Light, but Tuon hated the looks this woman could give.   
  
"He did. I suppose he met them in the palace before the Seanchan arrived. All I know is that he was supposed to leave with ... friends of his the exact day that your army arrived." She shrugged.   
  
Tuon frowned thoughtfully. That had to mean something, that the Seanchan army had stopped him from leaving before she arrived. This certainly helped her waning confidence that she was not a complete fool.   
  
Apparently, conversation was over as Setalle returned to her embroidery -- did she ever do anything besides sewing? Suddenly, Tuon had no desire for a stones game with Selucia. She needed to think about what to do next, and she needed to get out of this wagon.   
  
****   
  
Originally posted: May 29, 2004   
  
**A/N:** Sorry about the delay. I have awful writer's block every other day, which accounts mostly for this horrid attempt, and a much shorter chapter than I would have liked. Also I had no time to write earlier this month due to studying like mad for AP exams, which thankfully are over now. Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner now that school is done, but no promises.   
  
And I just need to clarify a few things: I'm a firm believer in the theory that Setalle Anan was an Aes Sedai (that Elayne had mentioned earlier) who burned herself out researching ter'angreal. As such, I am most definitely pointing to that in Tuon's thoughts concerning her, in case you didn't get the allusion. I also really dislike Olver, and it was a pain writing him in, so I apologize if he sounds incredibly stupid. And also, I have absolutely no idea if Snakes and Foxes is actually played in Seanchan. If anyone does know, I'd appreciate the information, even if it's too late to change.   
  
And thank you so much for all the reviews; they really do help. 


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER**: Everything belongs to Robert Jordan. Any quote you recognize from this chapter comes from _Crossroads of Twilight_, chapter 28: "A Cluster of Rosebuds."

The days continued to drag slowly, and Tuon mostly occupied herself with her few visitors--Olver and Noal and, every once in a while, Thom Merilin. She was also beginning to think of ways to convince Mat, if he ever showed up again, to let her out of the wagon on a more regular basis--a fact which irked her endlessly, knowing that she was relying on his favor, though she was positive that she could get him to agree with it somewhat unwittingly. And the traveling show had finally started moving, albeit incredibly slowly; Tuon hated the creaking and groaning and rocking of the tiny cage she was in and the sound of rain constantly falling against the wood, drilling into her head. 

After several days of his company, she became convinced that Noal was somewhat insane, but surprisingly enough, she enjoyed his stories and company. She tried not to appear too interested, as he usually told them to entertain Olver, but she still found herself smiling at his wild descriptions of such places as Shara--and she had thought that _this_ land was strange. 

It was finally after Mat's second visit to her wagon that everything seemed to suddenly change for the better for Tuon. He had brought Egeanin for some reason she could not fathom, and Tuon could still remember inwardly cursing that she had been sitting cross-legged on the floor in a wool sack playing a child's game rather than something more dignified; however, it hadn't mattered, as Egeanin had clearly been desperate not to be there, especially after what transpired. 

But what occupied Tuon for most of the following day was not Egeanin's trembling shame or Mat's obvious surprise at her behaviour; it was what Noal had said to Mat: 

_"Fortune rides like the sun on high   
with the fox that makes the ravens fly.   
Luck his soul, the lightning his eye,   
He snatches the moons from out of the sky."_

From The Prophecies of the Dragon, he had said. It had taken all of her self-control not to sit there, mouth agape, and beg Noal to repeat it. For long periods of time afterwards, her mind whirled over the possible meanings it could have, from the probable to the more absurd imaginings of her own that had nothing to do with omens and all to do with a ridiculously small wagon. She hated being trapped, especially when she knew that she had a clue to everything she was seeking, if only he would stop being so difficult. 

**xxx**

She was surprised the next night when Mat returned while she was playing stones with Olver, and she was also surprised to realize that she would have been disappointed if he had avoided her after what had happened. 

And so it came that he was sitting across from her, playing stones, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. She watched him play the game, because he appeared somewhat distracted. Afterwards, she was almost positive that he was not really concentrating, as she won ridiculously easily; or maybe he was letting her win, which no sane person would ever do if they knew her temper. 

"You don't play very well, Toy," Tuon said, masking her disappointment or annoyance or whatever it was. She studied him, wanting to see what he would say, but he only smiled and said goodnight before leaving. 

She looked at Setalle, but she was only humming and, as usual, sewing. She somehow felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. She didn't know what game he was playing, and she didn't know who was in control. 

**xxx**

The next night he reappeared, and Tuon was suddenly more alert than usual, seeing something held in his hand. Who, exactly, did he think she was; did he not learn his lesson the first time? 

But before she could utter a retort, he had given the small paper flower to Selucia, and sat at the stones board as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Tuon tried to appear unruffled, but she was reeling slightly; did he give this stuff to every woman in the _entire_ camp or was he purposefully doing it to annoy her? More than ever, Tuon couldn't understand him at all. 

And, as much as she resented not resenting it, he was most definitely a worthy opponent at stones, despite his rather dismal attempt the night before. When she did win, she had to use every bit of skill she possessed. It unnerved her when he appeared to be studying her over the board, unused to scrutiny like his. He also continued giving more presents to Selucia, keeping her off balance; after the first one, Tuon had adopted a mask of indifference, though she still had no clue what he was trying to gain by it. 

After that first flower, Selucia had turned to her immediately after Mat had left. 

"What should I do with it?" 

"Keep it, I suppose," Tuon replied, waving her hand carelessly. 

Selucia frowned. "I don't trust him." 

Tuon almost pointed out that she didn't trust anyone, because that was her job. But she didn't, because she herself felt like a fool for trusting him when she barely knew him, when she had hardly trusted anyone her entire life. 

**xxx**

The next night Mat brought another flower, this time a cluster of rosebuds. Selucia, contemptuous, stepped forward to accept it, but Mat simply sat down and put the flowers by the board. For her. Tuon showed no sign of acceptance or recognition, certain that it was not part of the rules in whatever game this was. 

As she reached to choose a stone, she looked at his face, searching for any sign of what he intended. He looked innocent, like a little boy who smiled at his mother before stealing her pies behind her back; Tuon didn't know what to make of it. 

"I've changed my mind, Toy. You play very well." She hid a smile. 

Tuon decided that this might as well be the time for what she had been planning to ask him; the chance to get out of this prison and take some semblance of action over her life. 

"I have kept my word, Toy. No attempts to escape, no attempts at betrayal. This is confining. I wish to take walks. After dark will do. You may accompany me." She was certain that sounded right-she was not begging, but she hoped there was some kind of authority behind her words. Her eyes strayed to the cluster of rosebuds, sitting by the board-it was really quite beautiful. What did he mean by it? "To make sure I don't run away." 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Setalle and Selucia turn their attention on Mat; she didn't move her eyes from his, however. She could see him worrying about it in his head, but she also knew the moment that he opened his mouth that she had won. 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Originally posted: November 23, 2004 

**A/N**: And here's the part where I come up with a really good reason for not updating. Just give me another month or so to think of one. I'm also sorry that after such a wait the chapter is really short. Well, I'm sure all good WOT fans are used to waiting, even if for something slightly better than this.

I don't really do review responses and usually skip them on other fics, but I figure since there were a few comments/questions, and I've neglected this story for almost six months now, I should acknowledge the fact that reviews actually _do_ make me write faster, believe it or not:

**Emily3**: I'm blushing :) Honestly, thanks, I'm glad that you support Mat and Tuon, because a lot of people seem to hate her, although I've always found her interesting myself. 

**Niani**: I have yet to meet anyone who likes Olver. I'm glad you're reading this, as a fellow Mat-writer/admirer. 

**sammie teufel**: As I said above, it's always good to know people actually are interested in Tuon! Thanks. 

**Skye Dragon**: Wow, I hope reading my story doesn't hurt you. But, honestly, that made me smile. Thankyou. 

**VercisIsolde**: Yes, Aes Sedai are removed from the Three Oaths after Stilling--if I remember correctly, Siuan Sanche could lie to Gareth Bryne afterwards. But yeah, I was more alluding to the fact that Setalle, like all Aes Sedai, is very good at deception. 

To **britt** and **Data**, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint you too much after the wait. Thanks for the reviews.

Review, please? 


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:** Wheel of Time belongs to Robert Jordan; none of these characters are mine. Most of the dialogue is taken from Chapter 28 of _Crossroads of Twilight_, "A Cluster of Rosebuds."

**

* * *

**

The night air was crisp and clear, and her first few deep breaths outside nearly made Tuon dizzy. It was all she could do not to grab a horse and run off, just to move, be in control. But she restrained herself like always, and her hood hid her roaming eyes that were taking in every inch of the dark campsite. She could finally identify the sounds to their images; without all the showfolk rushing about, it was more like a slumbering beast that would wake itself up the next morning for another chaotic day.

She took a slight opportunity to sneak a glance at Mat, who was walking along beside her; he himself was looking behind them, where Setalle and Selucia strolled. Her lips twitched as she recalled his affronted look when he heard why the two women were accompanying them--apparently he didn't like being called a "rogue" (Tuon was sure she could handle herself, and had also been insulted when Selucia insisted on coming; but Mat's disgruntled look had appeased her, as well as Selucia's reminder that her job was to keep Tuon safe).

As they were walking, Tuon was also extremely aware of his attempts to get her to talk--he actually appeared to be curious about her; but she was the one that needed to know more about him--he was still a mystery, the more she was around him. She heard his men outside her wagon calling him "My lord"--not to mention the fact that he had been a queen's toy!--yet he spoke of growing up on a farm, the Two Rivers.

It crossed her mind briefly that he was being deceptively simple so that she wouldn't know who he was, but when he spoke of his home it was too real to be a lie, she was sure. _Another reason you're a fool--you know better than anyone not to trust!_ But she couldn't help enjoy listening to him talk about his home, however much she tried to resent that feeling.

Doing her best to ignore his inqueries, she tried her own simple questions; anything to nudge an answer out of him that would add another piece to the puzzle. Earlier in the day she had tried to look for omens, or anything, to tell her what to do; nothing came, leaving her with only her previous determination to get to the bottom of this man--he must be central to it all.

"Your father trades horses. And what do you do, Toy?"

For some reason, he looked over his shoulder again--was he worried someone might overhear?

"I'm a gambler," he said.

Tuon was glad, for once, that she wore her hood; it wasn't his answer that bothered her--it hardly meant anything--but he sounded exactly like her father did years ago.

"My father called himself a gambler."

Her memory of him was, at best, dim; but the lessons he taught her were still fresh in her memory--they were the only thing that had kept her alive thus far. Sometimes she would recall random memories: leaning over a stones board with him as he taught her the importance of strategy; that very first horse he bought her to train; the shock that had to be masked behind a face of indifference when she learned of his death.

"He died of a bad wager."

That ended the conversation for the evening.

**

* * *

**

"What do you do for fun, Tuon?" Mat asked her the next night.

She had gotten used to him calling her by her name, but it still didn't stop the shiver from going down her back.

"Just because you enjoy it," he continued. "Aside from playing stones."

Tuon almost laughed--there wasn't much to do for fun as the Daughter of the Nine Moons. They came to a halt at a cage with a black lion in it. A small stab of nostalgia hit her as she remembered the animals she saw in Seanchan; this one was different somehow, though. What was it?

"I train horses and _damane_," she replied honestly, realizing that those were the few things she actually enjoyed doing. It was something about the struggle of her will against another's. She knew, without boasting, that she was one of the best _sul'dam_ in Seanchan, simply because she never backed down from the thrill of a challenge. Perhaps that was what interested her to this man beside her--a new challenge. This whole land was a challenge.

Lost in her thoughts, she suddenly realized what was different about the lion--"Does he really have a black mane? There are no lions with black manes in all of Seanchan."

She noticed that Mat seemed somewhat taken aback by her answer; of course, she shouldn't be surprised, as he had risked certain death freeing Light knows how many _damane_ from Ebou Dar. She wondered how these people could simply let _marath'damane_ run wild; not just wild, but in actual positions of power. She was sure she would never understand.

She ignored what Mat said to her next, for there was one question she was dying to ask, but she refused to sound like a simpering serving girl trying to catch the eye of a man. But, Light curse it all, she couldn't resist any longer; she had heard too many of Setalle's stories . . .

"Mistress Anan tells me you're a scoundrel, Toy." When she looked at him, he was blinking at her, like an owl, and she was glad to see that he was startled by her question--he seemed too sure of himself, and it unnerved her; putting him off balance was satisfying. "How many women have you kissed?" And then she was not so glad to realize that she very badly wanted to know the answer to this question.

She dimly heard the lion in the cage cough, but paid it no heed, her eyes fixed on Mat. He broke the contact first, and looked away, up at the sky.

"Looks like rain's coming again," was his answer, although the sky was perfectly clear. "Selucia will have my hide if I get you back soaked."

She felt her lips twitch and an involuntary laugh sound quietly in the back of her throat. She wondered why she wasn't indignant that he didn't answer--whether because he didn't think it proper to tell her, or because he was embarassed, she didn't know.

**

* * *

**

Every night Selucia tried to pry information--respectfully--out of Tuon about what she and Setalle had not been able to hear. And every night Tuon remained closed-mouthed, just smiling slightly as Selucia's speculations. Setalle never said anything, just watched her every once in a while with that infuriating calmness.

But after that walk to the lion's cage, she was surprised--and by no stretch rather angry--when he didn't return for two days. She was almost convinced that it had to do with their last conversation, though which part of it she didn't know. It couldn't have been her question; Setalle, who claimed to have an affection for the infuriating man, said worse things about him every day. She wondered if it had to do with her interest in _damane_, though that hardly made any sense either.

"I can't believe I have to sit in this cell for days simply because he won't stop by!" she railed, with only Selucia as her sympathetic audience. "We had an agreement, did we not? He can't just choose to not come!"

It was this very attitude that led her, out of spite, to ride on the wagon seat next to Setalle in the hopes that Mat would notice she wasn't going to be treated like a criminal locked up. She wasn't so angry that she was careless, however, and she took particular caution in making sure she was covered in her dark cloak.

She saw the Seanchan soldiers before she saw anyone else in the town; they were nearly impossible to miss. She willed herself to be calm, and remained where she was beside Setalle who, as always, appeared unruffled. As they approached closer to the town and the Seanchan eyeing the wagons, she peeked around the edge of her hood and saw Mat. He was riding near her wagon, trying not to look at her but failing most of the time--though she was sure she was the only one who noticed. She knew that she was torturing him by sitting here, and he was waiting for her to call out for help. Although she was slightly insulted, not being used to having her word distrusted, she could hardly blame him for his nerves--she knew exactly what her people did to enemies like him. But she was also sure that he was grudgingly beginning to trust her, and it gave her an idea for another way to take a little more control over the situation.

She would just have to wait until the next time he came to her wagon.

**

* * *

**

**Originally posted**: March 27, 2005

**A/N**: I thought for a while that I wasn't going to continue this fic, but then decided that I should at least end it with more of an actual conclusion. I probably will add one or two chapters more to tie it off; and by then the next WoT book will almost be out, and you can read something much better (:

And just a few responses for some very kind reviewers:

**Atiaran**: I definitely agree that Tuon is a good match for Mat, from what I've seen. They're both very strong willed, and they need someone just as clever and strong to keep up. Thankyou for reviewing.

**Mesaarah**: I agree that the last chapter was rushed; I definitely wish I could redo it again and include more dialogue and stretching it out a bit. I was just in way too much of a hurry to get it posted : Thankyou.

**shaiel**: Yes, this whole fic was just to amuse me until Jordan finally gets the next book out. I'm glad you're enjoying it (:

**sophiedb**: My opinion is that Tuon didn't know she can channel before she hears Egeanin say so in the last chapted of hers in CoT; so if you remember she actually does learn that she, and all sul'dam, can channel. I'm looking forward to writing that bit, if I ever get to it...

**spencer4ever**: I've read a theory on about Setalle as the foretold "One who is no longer" (I don't know if those are the exact words; I'm much too lazy to search for it). So that's where I became convinced that Setalle is a stilled Aes Sedai--and, IMHO, there are tons of hints lurking about her chapters if you read carefully (especially her interaction with Joline in CoT). Anyway, it's good to know _someone_ likes Olver! But for me, the only good part about him is I'm not forced to suffer through any POV chapters! Thanks for your review (:

And thanks to **A Lurking Reviewer**, **Catticus**, **JakOTheShadows**, **Niani**, **wisteria4444**

Review, please? (winsome smile)


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER:** Must I state again that I do not own Wheel of Time and am simply infringing somewhat upon copyrighted material ? Much of the dialogue comes from Chapter 29 of _Crossroads of Twilight_, "Something Flickers." 

_Tuon's veil no longer held her identity; she never thought she would be unveiled this way--unceremoniously gagged and tied up by the Queen's pet. And yet she was unafraid; Tuon knew only that he had to take her with him. _

A Seanchan woman had appeared . . . Egeanin, she remembered; he obviously knew her, and she him. When the woman pronounced her title, Tuon's eyes never left him. She heard him say three times something he seemed to barely understand himself, or something he was unwilling to understand. 

Tuon felt a smile curve on her lips even as her heart beat a furious staccato against her ribs; he was bound irrevocably to her now, and she was sure he didn't even know it. 

Trying to keep her mind from running in circles, Tuon plucked at the burlap sack she wore impatiently, alternating between frowning at her lap and glaring holes through the door. The show had halted not far from the town, and it was already several hours after dawn. Mat was late. 

How _dare_ he keep her waiting, she fumed, itching to get out of the wagon, the camp, and this Light-cursed dress. She thought it entirely possible that the cloth had become permanently engrained in her skin, and that she would always be scratching herself for the rest of her life. 

Finally, Tuon could stand it no longer. 

"We'll wait outside, Selucia." 

Selucia raised an eyebrow, but Setalle wasn't there today; nothing kept them inside the cramped wagon except habit, which irked Tuon beyond reason. 

She opened the door, blinking in the bright sunlight, and pulled the cowl of her hood further forward. She hated having to hide herself like a common criminal, but so long as Mat kept his promises--surprising as it was--she would keep hers. She suspected he still did not trust her, which made her grudgingly acknowledge that he wasn't a complete fool, but she had no intention of betraying her word. Especially not now when she was finally beginning to gain some semblance of control over her situation. 

She saw the soldiers that were forever stationed outside her wagon peer at her curiously, not really having seen her before. Their glances made her unclean, and even Selucia's protective stance did little to make her feel comfortable. She watched the bustle of the showfolk setting up for the townspeople, and in the distance she could hear the roar of the black lion. 

It was another few minutes before Tuon saw Mat striding up to her wagon, where he bowed; she wasn't sure if he were mocking her or not, but decided to ignore it. 

"Are you ready to go shopping?" he said. 

Tuon drew herself up primly. "I have been ready for an hour, Toy." She noticed his clothes, which were different from the plain brown ones he had been wearing recently. If she didn't know any better, she'd almost think he had some culture. "Lace suits you," she murmured. "Perhaps I will have lace added to your robes if I make you a cupbearer." 

She was quite satisfied to see him momentarily startled; he was too sure of himself, and if there were one thing Tuon absolutely hated, it was someone being smug with her. 

One of the soldiers stepped forward, attempting to appear nonchalant. "Do you want me to come along, my Lord? Just to carry, maybe? 

Tuon concentrated on Mat, watching him evenly. Everyone saw through the man's comment--it was simply a guard offering to accompany prisoners. She saw Mat hesitate, and the longer he hesitated, the more she felt herself growing infuriated. Yet suddenly, Mat jerked his head and sent the fellow away. Tuon battled her relief, unwilling to be grateful to him. 

Just as she thought she was finally getting a hang of their strange customs, Mat held out his arm to her. She studied it, recalling seeing nobles strolling together in similar fashion, but no one had ever done that with the Daughter of the Nine Moons. Nobles never even met her eyes, let alone touch her. Either this man really was that ignorant, or completely uncaring. Tuon couldn't decide which she preferred. 

Ignoring the gesture, Tuon led the way, tired of following others, through the camp, leaving Mat to catch up to her. She was finally able to see the full of the camp in action during the daylight, and took the few moments to let her eyes travel over the wagons she had only seen briefly with all their colors. Scantily clad women and huge men darted past, not sparing a glance in their direction, intent on errands and chores. She saw one woman with a multitude of thin braids grounding powder carefully yet swiftly; the woman paused only slightly when she saw Mat, though he didn't see her. Gradually, the bustle of the camp drifted behind them as they walked. 

The town was in sight along the deserted road, the sun rising slowly over buildings. The slight chill enveloped her, easily creeping its way through the cheap cloth of her cloak and dress. Despite herself, Tuon felt the slightest fluttering of nervousness--she refused to label it fear. She had never doubted that her faithful guards would eventually find her, but she found herself, for some reason, hoping that it would not happen yet. It wasn't time, she knew; there was something important here that she had yet to discover--something about Mat and his Aes Sedai and even Setalle, perhaps. 

Suddenly, she saw Mat out of the corner of her eye. She frowned, and looked to Selucia for confirmation. Her maid had apparently just noticed this as well, and she looked similarly baffled as to why Mat was moving about awkwardly as if dodging or dancing. 

"Are you practicing a dance, Toy? It isn't very graceful." 

He turned to her, mouth open as if to speak, before stopping abruptly. Again, Tuon and Selucia watched, bemusedly, as he looked up and down the road, dumbfounded, as if searching for something. What was he seeing? _I thought I was going crazy_, she thought, _but clearly I haven't compared to him_. She saw him touch something through his coat, nervously, but he said nothing about whatever it was. 

"I can't buy you a dress standing here," was all he said. 

Tuon didn't know whether to be amused or concerned; she settled on looking at Selucia for reassurance of her sanity, before they continued walking. 

They passed through the gates with no hassle, Mat still silent; he told her that there were no Seanchan in this town, but still Tuon was wary, full aware that she wouldn't be able to speak to any shopkeepers. The streets were crowded, people shouting and selling goods, jostling each other, haggling and hassling. Tuon immediately spotted a shop with silks on display, and steered her group towards it. If she had been expecting anything decent, she was immediately disappointed, as everything she encountered was cheap cloth for cheap farmwomen. Selucia, more experienced in the first place with shopping, would quickly point out the flaws in the fabrics, though they weren't very hard to spot. 

Tuon noticed, indignantly--though she masked it--, how many of the shopkeepers took her for a petty thief or beggar. She grew tired of their suspicious eyes, and it nettled her further that only Mat's presence prevented them from being escorted as far away as possible. 

It became increasingly obvious that good quality was difficult to be found in this town, and that Mat was growing more distracted with every minute that passed. He kept looking around, hardly paying attention to Tuon, though sometimes it seemed as if his eyes were seeing nothing; she wondered briefly if he were drunk. 

When Selucia and Tuon entered a shop that finally held the slightest bit of promise, Tuon realized that Mat was not behind them. She glanced at Selucia, but if she noticed--which she certainly must have--she showed no concern, and instead began ruffling the fabric. It was certainly a nicer quality than others they had seen today, though Tuon still hoped for more. 

The shopkeeper, suspicious like all the others, approached the two women. 

"May I help you, mistresses?" 

Neither replied, continuing to finger cloth and look at colors, Selucia signaling to Tuon with her hand when she found something of worth. 

The man grew increasingly frustrated as his queries were ignored; he had noticed when they first walked in their poorly made wool clothes, and their silence convinced him they must be thieves. Still Tuon kept her patience; clearly this man was a fool. He was growing increasingly agitated, though he seemed to be trying to mask it. He must have been having a hard year if he was feeling threatened by two defenseless women. Well, not exactly defenseless. 

Suddenly, Mat rushed into the store, looking almost panicked, just as the shopkeeper was threatening to bring guards. 

"They're with me," he said; it was obvious he had been running, and the relief in his eyes was palpable to all but the oblivious shopkeeper as he looked at Tuon. She knew instantly that he thought she had fled. 

The clink of his money pouch on the table drew the shopkeeper's eyes away. 

"Give them whatever they want," Mat said. He turned to Tuon. "If you're going to buy anything, it's going to be here. I've had all the exercise I care for this morning." 

Tuon smiled slightly, though she felt Selucia stiffen slightly beside her. She was wondering how long it would take Mat before he grew tired of following her around the town. Besides, this cloth was good enough that Tuon didn't feel the need to protest; she didn't want to see how far she could push his word when he had no real cause to trust her. 

The cloth was chose and bundled up, leaving Mat to carry the burden. He really would make a good da'covale, she decided, if he would stop his occasionally impudent nature, and the odd behavior that led him to dancing around at strange times. Though somehow she knew there was a lot more to him than that casual insolence. 

Tuon knew all three of them felt relief as they crossed into the camp, though no one acknowledged it for fear of acknowledging what they were relieved didn't happen. 

She was just about to say something to Mat when a man she had only seen a couple of times, including the night she was ferried off from Ebou Dar, came running up to Mat, clearly worried about something, despite the tight control over his face and voice. 

"I was coming to find you," he explained. "It's Egeanin; she's been . . . hurt. Come quickly." 

Tuon didn't think twice, but followed Mat as soon as he ran off after the man. 

**Originally posted**: July 12, 2005

**A/N:** ahem I suppose it's no use apologizing for the long delay again. My only defense is that I had this chapter written out on my laptop, which doesn't have internet access, so it took me a while to get it transferred. Okay, well, I fully intend to finish this before book 11 comes out; there will be one more chapter, hopefully within the next month or so. 

I apologize for the formatting errors that were in the last chapter; for some reason no dashes showed up, and a few other punctuation errors… hopefully this chapter turns out ok. And in case you didn't notice, I did leave out the small encounter with Valan Luca before they left the camp. I tried writing it, but it was awful and seemed rather pointless, so I eventually just gave it up. 

Thank you so much for all your feedback. They tug at my conscience until I write more. 

So . . . review please? 


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